Sarah glanced down at the small pool located on the lower level of the watchtower, where Gareth was standing, barefoot on the surface. His face was pale, and dark circles had appeared under his eyes. The blue robed priests in attendance also looked exhausted. Maintaining the mists that were protecting the city was taking its toll, and she wondered how long they could keep it up for.

The watchtower they were in overlooked the city’s main gate, which according to Captain Avariel, would make it easier for his men to protect both her and Gareth. The halfling understood Elvish but refused to speak it in her presence, enabling her to learn two things from listening in on the conversations between him and the soldiers:

First, the elves had staged raids on the orcish positions, but were somehow being detected through the mists and had suffered some losses. These raids had been halted because the attrition amongst the elves was high, and they were badly outnumbered to begin with.

The second and more concerning issue was that Gareth had not slept since the orcs had arrived. It had something to do with maintaining the mists. He was outwardly confident he could continue for a while yet, but Captain Avariel, the head water priest, and Sarah weren’t so sure.

Gareth looked up and saw Sarah looking at him. He turned to one of the nearby water priests. “Uveila, take over for a while, would you?”

The elf said something in Elvish before taking his place in the centre of the pool. Gareth took a deep breath and looked up at Sarah. “Walk with me, would you?”

Sarah nodded and followed the halfling up the stairs to the top of the watchtower. Stanley, who had been leaning against a nearby wall, lost in his own thoughts, followed after them, not wanting to be left alone with the elves. Captain Avariel bowed deferentially as Gareth arrived at the upper level of the watchtower. The elven archers who were looking out from the narrow window slits turned to bow as well before turning their attention outward once again. Sarah could not tell if they could actually see anything through the thick mist. She certainly couldn’t.

“Anything to report, Water Speaker?” he asked politely, not even acknowledging the presence of the two humans. He had made it clear to them that he was only speaking in Mithian out of respect for the Water Speaker.

Gareth shook his head. “They appear to be content sitting around in their tents. Their wizards have finally figured out how to create small pockets in the mists.”

“So, they have finally found a way to counter our best weapon,” Avariel observed through gritted teeth.

“It’s just as well,” Gareth sighed, “I think I’ll let the mists fade for now.”

“Have you reached the end of your rope?” the captain asked as his concern grew.

“Not quite yet, no,” the halfling replied, “But I think it would be prudent to leave something in reserve for when the inevitable attack arrives.”

Sarah found the entire conversation alarming but knew better than to speak uninvited. She couldn’t help but wonder why she had been asked along, and the sideways glances she was getting from the nearby elves told her they were wondering the same.

Gareth noticed the looks as well and smiled thinly. “If we should have to withdraw, we must make keeping this young woman safe our utmost priority.”

Avariel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why?”

“Because Varuna wishes it so,” Gareth replied simply. The elf captain looked at him quizzically, but the halfling remained silent.

“Fine,” the captain sighed at length, “However, the men of the Eternal Watch have sworn to defend this place to the last.”

“That would be wasteful,” Gareth pointed out, “Every elf is vital to the defence of Effulian. You know that. If the walls are to be breached, you should get as many souls as you can out.”

Avariel glowered at Sarah and Stanley in turn before nodding. “I’m afraid I can make no promises, Water Speaker.”

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“I know,” Gareth winked. “I’m taking them up to the roof for a private discussion. I will dismiss the mists when I return.”

Avariel’s jaw dropped. “Is it wise for you to go up unattended?”

Gareth shrugged. “Probably not, but we need a private word, she and I.”

“Fine,” Avariel conceded. He nodded at a pair of soldiers who placed a ladder against the wall. One of them climbed up, undid the bolts on the trapdoor at the top and pushed it open before climbing back down.

Sarah and Stanley followed the halfling up to the flat roof of the watchtower, and Sarah felt immediately at ease now that they were out of sight of the elves.

“Is it alright if he listens in?” Sarah asked.

“I can go stand over there if you need some privacy,” Stanley offered. The watchtower was huge, and there was plenty of space for them to speak privately if need be.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Gareth said. He sounded very tired. It was as though he had been wearing a mask in front of the elves which he had finally let slip.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Sarah asked. It was a clear day, and she basked under the sun’s rays, enjoying the warmth against her face.

“I should warn you that I am keeping something secret from the elves,” Gareth began.”

“Oh?” Sarah said as her feeling of well-being vanished.

“The Enemy very much wants you dead,” Gareth sighed, “And if the elves figure out why... Well, I fear they will lock you in the darkest dungeon until the end of your natural life…”

“So why are you keeping this a secret from them, then?” Stanley demanded.

Gareth’s glanced at Stanley briefly before returning his attention to Sarah. “Call it guilt, I suppose.”

“For sentencing me to an eternity of Godhood?” Sarah asked accusingly.

“What was that?” Stanley blurted.

The halfling’s eyebrows shot up. “So he told you, did he?”

Sarah nodded.

“Good, that saves me having to explain,” Gareth said.

“You knew that going in, didn’t you?” Sarah was surprised at how calm she sounded. It was all she could do to stop herself from punching the halfling in the face for his deception.

“I don’t blame you for doubting me, but genuinely I did not,” he replied, “I figured it out when I saw the Drow carrying the Sword of Findendor.”

“What does that mean?” Sarah demanded.

Gareth rubbed his temples and took a deep breath before replying, “The Gods of the Pantheon pit their Chosen against one another to vie for influence on the Pantheon.”

“But Ratri isn’t part of the Pantheon,” Sarah pointed out.

“Indeed,” Gareth nodded, “But if Her Chosen were to defeat each of the others, then they would have no choice but to permit her ascension.”

“And the sword?”

“Allows him to kill Avatars without giving himself over to the Night Goddess,” Gareth replied, “He would soon die if he gave himself over, and then Ratri would have to go through the trouble of awakening a new Chosen.”

Sarah frowned. “But now the Fire God has no Chosen.”

“Hence the Drow’s irritation with me,” Gareth pointed out.

“How will killing me aid him, then?” Sarah asked.

“You cannot select a Chosen until you discard your mortal vessel,” Gareth explained, “If you are to die, your divine spirit would be free to pass to the next realm.”

Sarah’s head felt like it was about to explode from the new information she was learning. “So my severing, Agni’s death… are you saying this was part of Varuna’s plan?” Sarah asked.

“Now this is all speculation on my part,” Gareth began, “Varuna has little love for his brother and his impulsiveness had already trapped him in your body. He trusts you, even without your power, to keep yourself safe more than he trusted his brother to avoid falling for one of the Night Goddess’ schemes.”

Sarah shuddered as she remembered what happened in the cavern beneath Corrington. “He’s right there,” she muttered before adding, “It seems that the Drow has been working at this for years, so I’m sure he won’t mind waiting a few decades for me to die of natural causes if need be.”

“That could well be his plan,” Gareth allowed.

“What happens when I die?” Sarah’s voice was soft, and she cringed, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Gareth took a deep breath. “You ascend into Godhood and move on to the Divine Realm. The only way you can return here is through your Chosen, which you must choose at their birth. Even then, you would only be able to inhabit them when they turn twelve if they’re human, older, for the other races. I think for elves, it’s in the hundreds of years.”

Sarah nodded, feeling empty inside. She then remembered the passage she’d read at the Grand Library. “When Ratri’s Chosen reigns supreme, the Night Goddess will take Her place on the throne of the Pantheon at long last,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Gareth asked.

Sarah shook her head. “Just a passage from a book I’ve read. I believe it was called ‘The History of the Night Goddess’.”

Gareth nodded. “Unfortunately, Ratri’s Chosen is out for your blood. It is in our interests to keep you alive for as long as possible. I will keep that secret from the elves until Ratri’s Chosen is dealt with, at which time you will be free to go.”

Sarah bit her lip and looked out into the distance. Was she to become a ‘guest’ of the elves until the end of her natural life? “Can’t you just keep this secret and let me escape?”

The halfling shook his head sadly. “Not until Ratri’s Chosen is defeated… You do understand, don’t you?”

Sarah turned her back on Gareth and bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to rant and scream at the unfairness of it all. She blinked back tears of frustration, refusing to let the halfling see her cry.